


Please?

by AnAwfulPerson



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Definitely some stalking going on, Evan doesn't mind, M/M, Mental Illness, Obsession, Romance, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide mention, some other shit idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAwfulPerson/pseuds/AnAwfulPerson
Summary: Evan and Connor start talking through handwritten letters. Meanwhile Connor begins a downward spiral.Who knew life could look up when you're hanging down.Ft. Connor caring a lot abt Zoe, Zoe caring a lot about Connor, and Evan caring so much about everyone.





	1. It All Starts With A...

**Author's Note:**

> Yo yo yo I don't own these gay ho ho hos. Also ty DearBowenLachlan for reading it before I threw it into the world. Enjoy!

School had been in session for a little over two months, and though Evan wasn’t expecting anything new, he certainly was disappointed. Evan hadn’t suddenly grown new confidence like his mom seemed to have thought he would. No one liked him more. He hadn’t gotten more attractive.

Not to mention, he finally had his cast removed and not a single person had signed it. What was he expecting, though, when he could hardly even say hi to someone?

It wasn’t like casts came with an automatic people magnet, and all he had was one blue sharpy.

Either way, the day had been pretty boring and went by pretty quickly

So here he was in the computer lab at four, everyone else having gone home long ago, typing his shitty psychiatrist’s letter as usual. Unlike usual, though, he felt creeped out. For some reason, despite not seeing anyone around him, he felt...not alone. He rocks on his heels, taps his fingers, hums, and twitches as usual, but with his eyes shifting all over the room.

He shakes his head, focusing on the computer.

“ **Dear Evan Hansen,**

**Today...wasn’t much different than the last couple. In fact, it was no different than the last couple.**

**I came to school, sat down in my seat, made a fool of myself…**

**And Connor Murphy keeps staring at me like he wants to murder me. I guess Jared’s teasing about me and Connor aren’t far off, really. He stares at me like he wants to kill me every other second, and every other-other second, I stare back for reasons beyond my understanding.**

**Jared likes to say it’s ‘Hybristophilia’, but that would imply that Connor is a serial killer.**

**Anyway. Maybe now that my arm has healed, I’ll finally be able to start going out again.**

**Sincerely,  
Me** ”

He grumbles, printing it before he could change his mind and listens to the printer with his eyes closed. That was a somewhat comforting sound, he supposed, since he’d heard it so much lately, and it meant he could go home.

He froze as he heard footsteps, though, eyes shooting forward and stomach lurching. No, no no no, he was supposed to be alone. He stares at his hands as the person comes in, confused as they seem to simply...stop walking. He looks up through his eyelashes at a very awkward and hesitant looking Connor Murphy, holding his note to himself in his hand.

Oh shit.

He’d read it and now he probably wanted to either kill Evan or confront him or...who even knows.

“Uh, this is yours I think. Evan.” He’s about to hand it over when Evan watches as his eye catches a line on it and he freezes. Connor’s eyes flit back and forth and he looks at Evan for a second, shocked. “This. It has. It says my name.”

Evan’s throat clogs up, “I-I, it’s just...it’s,” he stares at his feet, closing in on himself.

"Y-you printed this out to hurt me, didn't you?” He’s staring at Evan like a hawk. He then looks back at the paper, reading parts of it out loud, “What, do you think I’m a serial killer too? Like your STUPID little FRIEND?”

Evan looks up and sees clearly that this isn’t anger like the time Connor threw a printer at their teacher. No, this is something else. This is vulnerability. “No, Connor, I-I...I’m sorry I,” he tries to force words, but he doesn’t have any to force.

Connor growls and suddenly has Evan up against a wall, “You know, don’t you. You KNOW!” He’s entirely in Evan’s space, and Evan flinches at Connor’s breath on his face. He swallows deeply. “You fucking know. You know you KNOW YOU KNOW YOU KNOW,” he’s got Evan’s collar in his hands, and there’s a moment of silence. Connor growls, “Well, if you know anyway.”

Evan must be in some weird dream or something because he’s suddenly kissing Connor Murphy. Connor’s hand is in his hair and he’s...kissing him. He’s too shocked to do anything but stand there. Connor jerks back, looking him in the eye.

He then turns to leave, likely to run, and Evan reaches forward and snatches his arm. Connor, looking as shocked as Evan felt, looked at his arm and then at Evan. “What…”

Evan, shaking slightly, moves forwards and puts his lips on Connors.

He feels Connor’s demeanor change. He feels the anger drain, and something else fills him. Connor is kissing him back, and Evan feels something wet on his face. He hears a sob, and it takes him a minute, but...

Connor is crying.

In what seems like a few seconds, Connor is gone. Evan, left blinking, looking side to side, and flustered beyond belief. He wipes the moisture off his face and collects himself. He realizes that the letter is gone, and as if in a trance goes to print another copy.

What in the hell just happened.

\---

Usually, when something odd, or particularly stressful happens, Evan tells his only friend. His only family friend. Jared however, in this situation, would likely be more than useless.

He’d just make fun of him. Not to mention, he wasn’t entirely sure Jared wasn’t...well, homophobic. He groans, laying down in his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

His first kiss ever was Connor Murphy, and he’d made him cry. Though he couldn’t be sure if it was him or some issues Connor had. Either way, it upset Evan. A lot. He played the little sobbing sound in his head over and over again, wondering if Connor’s outbursts were only caused by fear, or sadness, or something.

Maybe he and Connor weren’t so different at all.

Whereas Evan would rather cry and hide, Connor would rather shout and fight.

It all made sense to him. He still doesn’t understand it, though. Sure Connor must be lonely, everyone thought he was a serial killer or an asshole, but Evan? Connor was attractive, Evan...in Jared’s words, ‘You could do the live action shots for Thomas the Tank Engine.’

Which, he was fairly sure was Jared trying to joke with him, but it just made him want to hide away forever.

Conner, however, could be a model if he was a little more stable. He was totally out of Evan’s league, and yet it seemed Connor was the one with the crush on him. How long, who knows. Maybe he should ask him. Maybe...he should actually try and befriend him? Hell knows how that would go. Maybe he should just hide away forever.

He pulls his covers over himself, not bothering with dinner, and fell asleep laying there thinking of how he’d go about doing this.

He has some very weird Thomas the Tank Engine dreams.  
Connor is in every one of them.

\-----

What in the world.

In his hands was a letter, styled like his shitty psychiatrist ones to himself. It started the same, too. He looks left, right, and sees long hair whipping around a wall out of sight. He blinks, then huffs, then turns to read it.

‘ **Dear Evan Hansen,**

**I’ve been around you for ten years and never actually talked to you until yesterday. But then I fucked it up and hell if I’m not surprised.  
I don’t know why you wrote that letter, but here I am doing it too.**

**Also, I’m not a serial killer. And I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but ‘kill’ isn’t the k-word I want to do to you. That sounded cooler when it was in my head.  
Anyway, I’ll try not to death-stare you anymore.** ’

Evan squints at a crossed-out line, that almost looks like ‘just don't ignor-’ and stops,

‘ **My locker is the one with a dent in it if this is going to become a thing.**

 **Sincerely,  
Me** ’

Evan snorts, turning around and looking at the sad, dented locker all the way at the end.

He pulls out a piece of paper and then jumps as the bell rings. He shoves the paper back in his backpack and runs to class. He’ll do it tomorrow.

\-----  
Evan gets to school the next day early, making his mom freak out and call him. He lies, saying he had to turn an assignment in early. She sounds surprised, maybe a little too excited, and tells him she loves him and will see him after school.

He slips the note into the severely dented locker and heads to class.


	2. The Evan Diaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, shit,” Connor exclaimed, making the girl across from his locker jump and look like she was going to shit herself.
> 
> In his hand was a note from Evan Hansen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^ )

“Well, shit,” Connor exclaimed, making the girl across from his locker jump and look like she was going to shit herself.

In his hand was a note from Evan Hansen.

He held it like it was a delicate flower or some shit, gently unfolding it and feeling his heart kick up like eight beats. He pauses, refolds it, and shuts his locker. No, not here. It deserved some fucking ambiance. This was it, the moment he was told to go fuck himself and that he would never be enough for Evan. Or that he was a crazy fucking asshole who'd sexually assaulted him and he hated him forever.

He had to at least honor it with some alcohol.

He had come to school that day only to see if there was anything in his locker. Then he remembered he had third period with Evan, and thought he’d skip everything else and attend that.

He pays a dude standing by the back of the school twenty bucks he pinched from his dad and he has shitty alcohol. He heads out to his car and throws his backpack back in, jumping into the back seat and flinging his legs over the middle divider. He takes a big swig and carefully unfolds it, almost tenderly. He has no idea why he bothers.

He grunts, blinking a couple times and begrudgingly pulling his backpack to himself with a leg, getting his glasses out and popping them on. He then settles in.

‘ **Dear Connor Murphy,**

**Hi. Don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you before.**

**I figure I should explain the letters a little. This whole letter shit, to myself no less, supposedly will make me love myself or something. At least that’s what my psychiatrist says and I don’t believe it, but it makes my mom happy.**

**I’m supposed to explain why it will be a good day, but since it never is I just type whatever happened that day. It appeases the beast, so good enough, right?** [There’s a shitty squiggle of someone shrugging in the corner, and that’s the cutest fucking thing Connor has ever seen.]

**Anyway, I hope this note at least didn’t make you hate me or something. It would be pretty cool to not be a lonely pathetic loser.**

**Sincerely,  
Me.’**

“Well, I’ll be fucked,” he mumbles, capping the alcohol and tossing it in his trunk. He didn’t need it anymore, he felt buzzed from the paper in his hands. He folds it up again, gently, and puts it in his middle tray.

He sits there, staring at the roof of his car and watching a million pictures of Evan float through his head, some less realistic than others. Soon he’s blissed out and half asleep, and his phone buzzes. Shit, it’s almost third.

 

He pulls himself up and groggily grabs his backpack, forcing himself out of his car and back into hell.

\-----

Shit, he’s doing it again.

He’d promised to stop death staring, but it was so hard. All of Evan’s mannerisms were so adorable, and fuck him if he didn’t have any other motivation to live or mental filters. But now he had a chance. He was going to fuck it up, there was no question, but he still had a chance.

He finds himself staring at Evan again, and he freezes as he realizes Evan is looking him right in the eyes, smiling slightly and with an eyebrow cocked. He snorts and wiggles his eyebrows, and watches Evan try not to choke.

God, he could so get used to this.

Evan goes back to being a stupidly adorable nerd and actually giving a single shit about the class, and Connor just watches. He only realizes he’s fallen asleep when the bell rings, and he’s forced awake. He groans, rubbing his eyes, and realizes there’s someone standing in front of him, blocking his view of where Evan sits.

He looks up and sees Jared fucking Kleinman glaring at him. He groans, louder this time, and stands up, grabbing his backpack. He so didn’t need this. Ever.

“Listen,” Jared says, “I don’t care if Evan is a pathetic loser, if you hurt him…,” Connor looks over at him, watching him think of a reasonable threat.

He doesn’t even answer, turning around and walking away. As long as Jared was being protective of Evan, Connor couldn’t find enough reason to hate him at the moment.

Jared however, wants to be the biggest dick possible today, and grabs Connor’s backpack, pulling him back. Connor turns, feeling his blood ignite a bit. Jared is glaring at him, “Listen,” Jared says, “You stupid fuck. Whatever int-,” and here is where he stops listening, his blood far too hot.

He’s about to tear Jared to fucking shreds when he sees Evan in the background, looking at him kind of scared.

And if that isn’t enough to sober him up. Look at him, fucking it all from the get-go.

He loses the shits to give because he really doesn’t want to be the one putting that look on Evan’s face. Instead, he half-shoves Jared and mumbles a half-hearted, ‘Go fuck yourself.’

He leaves a confused Jared and a relieved looking Evan behind, scowling at himself and making at least three of his schoolmates shit their pants.

\------

Once every so while Connor let himself admit he had a problem.

It never changes anything, though.

Ever since elementary school when Evan and he used to sort-of interact, he’d been...a little obsessed. With Evan. With everything Evan did, said, liked. He has a few books on trees, and a manual for a game he doesn’t own.

But that’s the normal part.

He groans at himself, feeling particularly creepy as he pulls a stack of three notebooks out from under his bed, making a face at the dust that came billowing out with them.

Connor wasn’t good at feelings, and if he could hazard a guess, he never would be. So he went the teenager route of writing about it, and he now has three journals worth of gay musings on Evan, and a copy of his schedule.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling the alcohol out of his bag and swigging some before shoving it back in and throwing it under his bed and grabbing his glasses, shoving them onto his face. He didn’t need to think about the right or wrong of this right now.

Or ever.

 

He cracks the newest one open, fetches a pen from his desk and collapses onto his bed, scanning over the day where Evan and the printer thing had happened. It had actually gone on for two to three pages, and his loopy-ass cursive didn’t cut the space it took either. He sighs, going on to write about the letters and how much of an asshat Jared was.

He grimaces, imagining Jared finding out about this whole fucking... he looks at his notebooks. Fuck it. About his diaries. About his creepy Evan Diaries.

He groans at himself.

\------

After an awkward as hell dinner with his parents, he’s back in his room again, and just awake enough to grab some paper from his backpack and sit at his desk. God, look at him, actually using the beat up piece of wood in the corner of his room. He was practically functional.

He can’t help but snort at himself, as he dives into writing.

**‘Dear Evan Hansen,**

**Yo.**

**That’s kind of lame man, why would you write to yourself. Especially about some carebear, everything is wonderful shit. Is he some kind of fucking hippie?**

**I mean I know I have the long hair shit going on, but at least I don’t tell you to love yourself or’**

And here he stops and winces. He crumples the paper up and throws it at the wall. God, he was bad at this.

Within the next couple of minutes, the pile of discarded paper grows. His wall suddenly and unexplainably has a new hole, that he absolutely knows nothing about, and he’s at his wit's end.

**‘Dear Evan Hansen,**

**Hey.**

**That’s lame, but if it keeps your mom off your hide then it’s probably for the best.  
** **Being not-pathetic-lonely-losers together sounds nice.  
I fucking suck at this. What am I even supposed to say anymore? ‘**

He groans, banging his head again the table. Then he stops, and his eyes widen. 

**‘Hey, today is going to be a good day because we both have a friend. There.  
** **Sincerely,  
Me.’ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me actually write this. :*


	3. A Day In the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Zoe, sitting by a tree, C-R-Y-I-N-G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW, please see tags. Be careful y'all.

For a while, everything is okay. 

Connor and Evan exchange their dorky notes, Connor kind of attends school. 

Of course, Connor always went swinging down fist first, and as soon as that weird angry-sad swing started up, he knew he wasn’t going to school. There was no way. 

It takes two days before he realizes how much Evan and his notes had affected him. His swing gets worse after that, and he’s throwing things and punching walls, screaming and then breaking down crying.

He’s not ok, in short, and it feels like he’ll never be ok again. 

His head is a litany of _you’re not enough, you’ll never be enough, no one likes you, freak, just die already_ over and over and over. 

Dying is starting to sound real fucking nice, if he’s being honest. 

He forces a period of calm in which he attempts to draw. Of course, it’s Evan he’s drawing, and his brain is going on a tangent about how Evan probably hasn’t even noticed he’s gone, that he didn’t even know he existed, that he’d _sexually assaulted him_. 

He gives up on the drawing.

He gets high instead. 

\-----

Evan is worried.

That in itself is nothing new, but the subject of his worries wasn’t something he’d done in Freshman year or the look the neighbor gave him when he put the trash out.

Evan is worried sick about Connor Murphy.

He’s been leaving little notes in Connor’s locker to cheer him up when he comes back if he’s even upset or something. It’s mostly for Evan’s benefit. For all he knows, Connor just got bored of their notes and had no reason to come to school or was trying to avoid him or...or...something.

He’s going through each one of Connor’s notes, though, and he’s...found a pattern. On the day’s Connor is doing less ok, his handwriting goes from the weird loopy cursive mess to this...weird scratchy painful looking font. There are some in-between days, too, where Connor’s ‘A’s are scratchy, but his ‘T’s still swirl all over the page.  
Evan is starting to get to know him, and he’s...he’s attached.

He’s worried.

He’s awake at 6am, now, too. Because his nightmares are Connor dying, Connor leaving, him killing Connor. He’s terrified of his own mind right now, and he just wants to see Connor okay. Who knows when his feelings for the other boy got so strong, but Evan has always been known to latch onto things, to make them bigger than they were.

Case in point, his feelings. 

He groans and forces himself up and out of bed. He wiggles his arms a little, still so happy to have his cast off. His arm still felt a little weak, even though it’s been a while. Maybe something was wrong? He stares at it, trying to summon anxiety for that and let go of the dread pit he’s got in his stomach for Connor.

Nothing happens. His brain is hyper-fixated and there’s nothing he can do.

He eats breakfast and decides to go to the park, leaving a note for his mom. Not that she’d even notice, really. 

Oh well.

\-----

At 3 am, Zoe decides she can’t. Take. It. Anymore. 

Connor is loudly self-destructing upstairs, and she’s been up all night. 

She almost wants to go up there and throw something at him, but she’d rather not die. She also wants to cry, because he looked so _happy_ the last couple of days, and she thought things were finally turning around. Finally going back to…

She wrangles her hands, shaking her head at herself. 

Connor was sick. 

It hurt her, it hurt her parents, and it wasn’t fair, but there it was. Not like her parents were actively doing anything about it. He needed help! But they just...would not listen to her! 

So she’s stuck listening to him slowly killing himself upstairs. 

She gets dressed and puts shoes on, quickly grabs breakfast and gets out of there, jogging to the park. She cries for a while, hidden under a bushy pine tree, legs hugged to her chest and an instrumental music track on.

She falls asleep there, tear tracks drying on her face. 

\---

Evan doesn’t really...know what to do. 

He came to the park to relax and forget his worries, but he must have some kind of...Murphy sibling magnet, because there’s Zoe Murphy, looking sad as all hell and balled up under his favorite pine tree. 

Also, she’s asleep. That makes Evan doubly anxious, because if he wakes her up who knows what could happen? He groans and decides he’s too...him to help, and he’d likely just make her even more upset, or maybe she was over it and he’d bring it up again. He was horrible at comforting people since he wasn’t ever really comfortable himself.

Of course, as he goes to walk away he steps on the loudest branch in the world and can visibly see Zoe jump and look around like she’s expecting to be attacked.

Her eyes finally meet his form and she blinks, wiping her eyes and blinking. 

“Evan?” 

He freezes. First of all, how does Zoe know who he is? Sure they’ve grown up in close proximity, but...Zoe has friends and other things to worry about. Man, if only eight grade Evan, with his sopping huge crush on Zoe, could be here. 

He realizes he’s been awkwardly standing there for a while and settles on awkwardly giving a little wave and walking closer. “H-hey Zoe. You, uh. You okay?” He frowns at the glistening tear tracks, and it’s selfish but he’s really hoping to glean some information about Connor from her. God, he’s awful, he should just say bye and leave.

Zoe smiles at him and laughs a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Um. My brother...you know Connor, right? He isn’t doing...so well. When he’s not doing so well, um. None of us are.” He hugs her knees tighter and Evan is probably making a pathetically sad face right now. 

“I’m. I’m so sorry.” He fidgets. She shakes her head, waving him over and patting the ground next to her. He takes the hint and sits next to her, arranging his legs under him and then looking at her.

“I just wish I could help him. Or that my parents would do literally anything about it except deny it and let it get worse and….and!!” She buries her face in her hands, “Ugh. Sorry, you probably didn’t need that.”

Evan tries to stutter some kind of comforting words out, and she pats his knee, making him tense.

“It’s okay Ev. Oh, hey, wait,” she purses her lips, “Your last name is Hansen, right?”

Evan thinks it’s a weird question, but he nods anyway.

She smiles, “You and Connor write each other letters, don’t you? I might have snuck into his room one time. Don’t, uh...don’t tell him.” 

Evan gets distracted by dread in his stomach and nods at her, eyes on his fingers as he picks at his skin. He misses the letters. Sometimes, even though he knows Connor isn’t even at school, Evan checks his locker multiple times. It’s sad, really, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence, and then Zoe smiles at him again, “Uh. How’d that start?” 

Evan blanks for a moment. He couldn’t tell her the full truth, obviously, because ‘your brother pushed me against a wall and kissed me’ wasn’t something he was ever going to be comfortable saying in his lifetime.

He fiddles with some grass and shrugs, “We were both lonely. He, um. He stole an assignment of mine, and then he wrote me a l-uh, the assignment was a letter,” he blushes, “It was um. It was to myself, and he wrote me one to. Uh. To me. Sorry.” He’s looking at the grass and bright red, now. God, he couldn’t even explain something right. No wonder he had no friends.

Zoe nods, “That’s...it’s cool that he saw something in you to reach out to.” She drums her fingers on her knee, “I saw you putting something in his locker last week? Did you not know he was gone or something?” She seems to wince slightly at her word choice, and a whole new dread builds up. Gone? From school, right? He wasn’t...Evan feels choked for a second.

No, he would have heard, wouldn’t he? Someone would have told him…

“Oh, I was...I’ve been leaving um, uh cheer up...up notes? Like...for when he...sorry I...when he gets back I um. I was hoping they’d make him feel a little...better,” he shrugs again and twitches, now playing with a small bracelet his mom had gotten him recently, plucking at stray threads on it. “I know it’s um...it sounds dumb. Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

When Evan glances up at her, She looks dumbfounded. This nervous wreck of a kid really cared that much about her brother? He wasn’t just doing this as a prank, or some kind of pity shit, he really really...cared. Or at least that’s what he was saying. She smiles, a real genuine smile at him. “He needs that right now...I know his locker combo, maybe we can get them now so I can give them to him?”

Evan looks at her quizzically, “You really think that would help him?” He tapped his foot on the ground, shrugging, “I mean. Isn’t school closed though?”

Zoe shrugs, and Evan sighs, “How are we going to…?”

Zoe smirks, “I have my ways.”

\-----

Zoe had read through every one of the notes. 

They were...adorable. She honestly hoped Connor didn’t drive this kid away, because he might be the most genuinely caring and adorable kid in the whole world, and Connor could sure use that. 

Of course, some of them were...well. Awkward. As all hell, but the kid couldn’t breathe without fidgeting, so honestly? What could she expect?

She gives him a big hug, and he seems tense, but she doesn’t care right now. This might be what breaks Connor’s swing, and she would do anything to break it right now, considering it’s been a solid month and everyone is off their rockers.

When she steps inside the house, though, she’s met with a deafening silence. She pauses at the door. 

Had Connor passed out? She tiptoed to the couch, but there was no sign of him there. She’s suddenly very suspicious. When Connor’s swing breaks he always passes out on the couch. Always.

She sets the notes down on the kitchen counter and makes her way up to Connor’s room. When she tries to open the door, it’s somehow stuck.

No. No no no no no.

She throws her whole body at it, over and over, screaming. Not again, please not again.

She bangs on it, screaming. She throws herself at it one more time, and it flies open. She falls to her knees and looks up.

It’s like her worse nightmare is right front of her.

Because there was Connor. Swinging from a noose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASDDGGHHFGHFGDG I feel so bad omg. Everyone was like 'wow! so cute im so happy to see my boys happy! my children deserve this' and i was like nO OH GOD I HAVE FOOLED YOU ALL. Feel free to yell at me in the comments :')
> 
> Edit: My brother hit my leg a few times for hurting y'all, so consider me Punished.


	4. When It All Comes Crumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week is trying to kill Evan.  
> Or someone else is.  
> Evan was falling asleep in his Calculus class, and suddenly his name was being called over the loudspeaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')

Zoe Murphy hasn’t been at school for two days.

Evan was starting to think that everyone that touched his notes immediately became a high school dropout.

That was a better thought than all the ones making his chest tight.

\----

Evan is hunched over his AP English textbook, pretending to read anything it has to say about the proper use of infixes and their lack of a part in the English language.

The bags under his eyes have never been darker, and he’s been late to school twice now.

His anxiety was being channeled into a worry pit in his stomach, and all he could focus on was Connor. Connor whose favorite color was that weird shade in the middle of blue and pink that wasn’t quite purple yet. Connor who really wanted to learn violin when he was little but broke his first ever violin in a tantrum. Who just wanted to get better, and had no help or support but an anxiety ridden idiot.

He finds himself face-first in his textbook, mind full of static and feeling on the verge of death. Maybe he should go home, he’s not getting anything done anyway, and he’d rather be absent than fall asleep in the middle of a class. God, what if he snores?

He jumps about ten feet when his phone buzzes, immediately blushing and pulling it out angrily and sees it’s Jared. He immediately frowns as he opens it.

It takes seconds to read and feel like it takes about an hour to digest.

No no no no no no _NO_ , please please please no.

‘Hey Evan, did you hear that someone died yesterday? Holy shit man.’

He feels something that feels like a panic attack building, but somehow worse. He wants to throw his phone across the library. It buzzes again, though, and it’s another text from Jared, who at this point Evan was considering running over.

‘Some Junior named Liv? Did u kno her?’

He lets out a breath he didn’t know was trapped in his chest, feeling tears rushing forwards. He thought he’d lost him, and wow. It was time to reevaluate this because no one misses someone they hardly know and who they only communicate with through letters.

Or maybe that was totally normal, but Evan didn’t know. All he knows is that he cares a lot, lot more than he thought he did.

He doesn’t answer Jared, shoving his phone back into his backpack, so glad that he was in the most secluded area of the library, least anyone has seen him have a miniature breakdown.

He goes home early that day.

He reads all of the letters again.

\------

This week is trying to kill Evan.

Or someone else is.

Evan was falling asleep in his Calculus class, and suddenly his name was being called over the loudspeaker.

He jumps, and his face flushed with mortification, his body shaking from his sudden nerves. He grabs his backpack, awkwardly stumbling his way out of the classroom.

He takes a minute to take a deep breath in the hall before heading to the Principal’s office, red and nervous.

He opens the door to the receptionist’s office, where the lady asks his name in a monotone voice. He stutters an answer and he’s being pointed at the Principal’s door.

He enters to two people on a couch. A grumpy looking older guy and a woman who’s dabbing one eye with a handkerchief while clutching a lined piece of paper.

He blinks a few times and wonders if they’ve called the right name. Was he supposed to be here? He’s ushered onto the couch by the woman, who takes a deep breath before turning to address him.

“H-honey? We’re Connor’s parents, um. He’s...um,” she lets out a little sob, dabbing at her eyes, and her husband seems somewhat unaffected.

Then a thought comes by that twists his stomach and clenches his heart. These are Connor’s parents. They’re crying. There’s a _note_. Evan’s brain goes quiet for a moment, and he whispers, “Is he...is C-co-,” he can’t continue, his brain going into panic mode and his lungs ceasing to work.

He can’t be. He can’t be dead. There’s no way. No no no no no.

Mr. Murphy, as he must be, turns to Evan, “He...tried to take his life a few days ago. He’s alive, and recovering.”

It’s a lot to take in, and Evan is gasping to breathe in. “So he’s...he’s okay?” He’s holding his chest, his breathing ragged and his heart still in his toes.

Connor had tried to _kill himself_?

Mrs. Murphy breaks down crying, and Evan can’t help but cry too.

Something doesn’t click, however, and he’s wiping his eyes and trying to speak through tears.

“Why...why are you telling me this,” he asks, eyes wide and shining.

Mr. Murphy looks to Mrs. Murphy, who waves her hand at him and wipes her eyes, handing him the paper. “We, err, we noticed that he left you what seems to be a note...to you. We can’t seem to make sense of it. We were hoping you could shed some light on it?”

Mr. Murphy passes it along, and in his hand is a note, with a huge, scratchy, blocky header saying:

**Dearest Evan Hansen.**

\-----

Evan is driving to the hospital, overwhelmed and numb.

He had sat with the Murphys for what felt like ages, answering questions and trying to make sense of Connor’s letter.

His suicide letter.

Addressed to Evan.

A sob wracks Evan’s body and he almost swerves. He had been numb on that couch after being handed the note. After seeing the header. After taking in how erratic and scratchy Connor’s writing was on it, how painful every scratch of the pen was.

The entire note is incoherent rambling. It’s like Connor had truly lost his mind when he was writing it. Every other word is sorry, every third line is ‘I love you’, but all in different ways. It’s truly maddening to read, and Evan never wants to set eyes on it again.

He knows Connor has a crush on him. For heaven's sake, they began talking because Connor had shoved him against a _wall_ and _kissed him_. But Connor knew he was about to die, and he’d addressed the note to Evan.

His last words were for Evan.

So here Evan was, using his driving permit for the first time, absolutely heartbroken and crying.

His mom almost hadn’t let him drive himself. He honestly didn’t even know why she did, but he was glad. He needed a moment alone, well and truly alone, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t drive. He was just too scared to do it anywhere but the mall parking lot.

Right now he was far too numb to care.

It was like the world’s worse irony. He could only be functioning if everything went to hell.

He finally sees the hospital and it takes only a few minutes to find parking.

It’s like nothing is real. He tells the lady at the front who he’s here for and gets a visitor’s pass, almost feeling like he’s gliding all the way until his hand is on the handle of Connor’s hospital room.

He feels a slight stirring in his stomach as he pushes the door open. Connor’s parents are at work, and it’s just him. Him and Connor.

His eyes settle on Connor.

He’s propped against the hospital bed, asleep and with all manner of tubes and IVs, including a breathing tube in his throat. The machines aren’t what catches Evan’s eye.

Around Connor’s neck is a large red circle.

Evan closes the door behind him, pulls up a chair, and stares at Connor.

It finally registers.

This is real.

Evan feels the force of it all hit him like a truck, his breath is gone, and tears come like they’ve never come before, pouring down his face silently. He reaches forwards and takes Connor’s hand into his own two.

He cries until he passes out, Connor’s hand still clutched in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y a l l  
> He's a l i v e.  
> Evan is finally discovering his own feelings for Connor...  
> This ch was rly hard to write let me tell you.  
> Comment to help me over the next bump loves. <3


	5. Healing Never Happens When The Sun Is Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :'''')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of short, but I had so much trouble writing this I'm rly glad it broke 1k. Love y'all!

The world is painted in Van Gogh-like swirls, one thing melting into another as Connor struggled to keep his eyes open. All along his side is warmth, and his hands. His hands are warm. 

His head lazily rolls to the side, where his eyes meet with a sleeping Evan’s form. 

Waves of guilt and fatigue hit him at the same time, and he’s dragged back into the void. His eyes flutter, and shut.

The world is sharp, hurting his eyes. He wants to close his eyes, but the need to know what is going on around him is stronger. His eyes roll around.

Zoe and Evan, asleep on the chairs and leaning on each other. Guilt and something else hit him, followed by waves that swallow up his consciousness, and he’s out again, drifting. 

His eyes fly open. Everything is blurry, then sharp, then blurry again and he feels like screaming. 

His parents are at the side of his bed. He has a pad of paper shoved at him. He angrily writes ‘Evan’ over and over again. He needs to tell him something. It’s _important_. He doesn’t have time for this.

A nurse strides over to him with a needle. He shoves her with what strength he has, trying to pull the IVs out of his arm. She turns a dial. He’s pulled into unconsciousness screaming. 

No. He doesn’t have _time_.

\------

Over the past few weeks, Zoe and Evan had spent hours at the hospital. 

The doctors were unsure if there was possible brain damage, but Connor needed time to heal, and it didn’t help that sometimes he got touchy with the staff when he woke up.

It was all truly maddening, and Evan wishes Connor would just wake up and be ok.

But that isn’t how it works, and he knows that. 

Right now he and Zoe are in his room, him on his bed and Zoe on his beanbag chair. Zoe could hardly stand to be in her own house, or around her parents. After what she had told Evan about her father’s absolute neglect to get Connor help, and her mom’s unwillingness to go against her father, he couldn’t blame her.

So she’s been sleeping over pretty much the whole time.  
Evan is just really glad not to be alone. He thinks Zoe is too.

They’re doing homework and listening to music on Zoe’s Ipod. Evan really can’t concentrate on Calculus right now. 

Meanwhile, Zoe doesn’t even know what it is she’s reading. 

Sure she’s flitting her eyes over it and making sure to look super serious. She really doesn’t care, though. 

All she can see is the noose swinging behind her eyelids. If she had been there minutes later...if she hadn’t come after the chair had fallen. She could have lost him.

Would her parents even care? Did they even remember when Connor and her would run through flower fields, screaming and laughing? When they never left each other's sides. Before everything went wrong.

She was filled with such a sudden urge to have anyone else _know_. 

Her eyes flicked up to Evan. “Evan?” Her voice sounds awful, wrecked. She feels the same. “He was...when we were little. He was o-okay.” She feels tears building, and she shuts her book. “We were close.”

Evan lifts his head, and Zoe can see a sort of longing in his eyes, one she feels too. 

She clears her throat. “We used to um. There were these,” she laughs, and it hurts, “The Orchard, you know? We’d go running through there. We’d um. Sometimes, Connor would let me sit on his shoulders. It was all so...perfect.” 

She’s crying, now, and she sees Evan’s face contort. He closes his book and walks over to where she is, plopping onto the floor and wrapping an arm around her.

He was acting differently too, now. She could still see his anxiety swirling all around, but his primary emotion currently was sadness. It seemed to override most things he did, now. It hurt more than it needed to. 

But he cared about Connor, something she’d really been alone in for years. Everyone seemed to be able to just turn a blind eye, to cut off every helping hand and replace it with a new set of rules.

Rules Connor could never hope to follow. 

She turns to lean on Evan, sniffling. 

“I remember um. When we...when the breaking point was, too.” She sighs, “We were just...Dad had just been yelling at him. We were in his room doing homework. He used to help me with mine. He’s always been really smart. I um,” she shudders, “I brought it up. Dad’s thing. He snapped. He um.” She lets out a rough sob, holding her stomach. 

“He broke my arm. He looked so scared, scared of...himself probably. He never let himself be alone with me again. We weren’t as close after that. After that was when he…,” she turns and puts her face on Evan’s chest, “He tried to kill himself then, Evan. Just two days after. I blamed myself for so long.”

She’s sobbing now, smooshing her face into Evan, talking through tears, “He’s sick. He’s sick and no one is doing _anything_ Evan. What if he never gets better? What if next time he actually…,” she’s crying too hard to be understood at this point, Evan not saying anything, just rocking her through her pain.

It’s more than she can ask for. 

\-----

Evan was at the wheel again, bags under his eyes and Zoe in his passenger side seat. He’d become somewhat unaffected by driving at this point, though he still flinches when he’s behind a truck, and there are times he has to pull over and breath. 

But he’s made this trip to the hospital so many times now, he could probably do it with his eyes closed. Except he’d have a panic attack because who drives with their eyes closed? Did they have a death wish?

He pulls into the parking lot. There’s a spot he always seems to get. It’s under this beautiful maple tree. He likes to think it looks over Connor for them when they’re gone because it sits right in front of where Connor’s window faces. 

Evan puts the car in park. He turns to Zoe, who had fallen asleep. He almost wants to let her rest. He knows he can't. 

He gently shakes her, and she looks scared for a split second. When she registers the situation she just nods, opening her door and sighing. It’s all becoming second nature. The lady at the front desk doesn’t even ask who they are, just nods at them. 

Except something is very different when they walk into the room.

Zoe almost drops her coffee, eyes wide. “C-Connor?”  
He turns her, looking like hell and with guilt written into every cell of his body.

“Hey, Zoe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, while I love this ch, I feel like I could have written it better? Idk pals :' )  
> I hope u enjoyed! I've been loving all the comments so much tbh, and this fic has had so many more people reading it than I could ever hope for? I thought I'd get like 2 kudos and I would have been chill with that tbh.  
> Thank you SO SO SO much everyone!! I love you all <3  
> also shout out to all my buds who like listened to me bitch abt writing this ch  
> and sushi restraunt person


	6. Present Not a Choking Man with Water (Lest He Cease To Breathe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like walking back into a dream. Or a nightmare.
> 
> He can almost remember what he was eating that caused there to be a paper plate on his desk, he’s pretty sure that pen was used to write one of his Evan notes, and the big gaping hole in his stomach was there because he’s almost killed himself in this room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my buddies for listening to me rant about how much pain it caused me <3  
> Shoutout to my regular commentors u give me life.  
> Okay enjoy!  
> (Oh hey also, listen to 'Secret For The Mad - Dodie Clark' while reading this. It'll make u cry even more. :>)

\------  
**It takes him a while to realize, but it’s not being able to reach the top cabinet that tips him off. He’s a kid again. He’s got to be hallucinating. What the fuck?**

**He ambles up the stairs to his room, before realizing that, fuck, he was seven. He still had the downstairs room. They hadn’t moved him into the fucking attic yet. He groans and runs back to his downstairs room, next to Zoe’s. He pauses, staring at her butterfly covered door. He thinks better of disturbing her and runs into his room.**

**Oh yeah. His room is an atrocity, covered in dinosaurs, stars and music notes. He sits on his bed, feeling like his head is going to explode.**

**How is he here? _Why_ is he here? **

**He looks up at his clock, realizing it’s not night, it’s early morning. What day was it? How exactly does he check? Fuck it, he thinks, rolling onto his back and laying there. He just wants to be dead, why was this happening? Why couldn’t he be dead?**

**He closes his eyes and waits for a while. He almost jumps when the door to his room opens. His mom peeks in, looking hopeful. Sad.**

**“Connor, honey? It’s time to get up sweetheart. Time for school!”**

**Oh yeah. School.**

**What grade was he in again?**

**He rolls up onto his feet, not sure what kid him was supposed to say to his mom. She smiles at him and shuts the door. Okay then, nothing. He wasn’t supposed to say anything. Nice.**

**He goes to change, because why wouldn’t he, and suddenly he’s dressed and in the car with his mom and Zoe. Everyone is quiet, and Zoe keeps looking over at him. Okay, so he must be younger than nine. Because after nine was when he’d fucked up everything with Zoe so irreparably that she never wanted to look at him again.**

**He’s suddenly desperate to talk to her, wanting to feel that connection they’d had again. He’d missed it. “Zoe? How’d you sleep?” He asks as it’s all he can think to ask.**

**She smiles at him with her too-big-for-her-mouth teeth before going on about the silly dream she’d had, and though it doesn’t answer the question he can’t help but soak it up. It almost chokes him when she leans over to kiss his cheek and he’s getting out of the car to go to class. Fuck, he misses her. Misses her not flinching when he raises his voice. Misses her not hating him.**

**It only makes him want to be dead more.**

**Everything dissolves again and he’s holding a printer over his head.**

**Fuck.**

**It’s that day.**

**Everyone is cowering, and he’s holding it. Over his head. Ready to throw it.**

**Was this his second chance?**

**He sets it down, not feeling the same anger he had all those years ago when he was in this same position. Not feeling much but self-loathing. He wants this ghost of the past shit to end, because he ended his life to stop this. This cycle of him hurting everyone around him.**

**He wants it all to end.**  
\-----

 

It was like walking back into a dream. Or a nightmare.

He can almost remember what he was eating that caused there to be a paper plate on his desk, he’s pretty sure that pen was used to write one of his Evan notes, and the big gaping hole in his stomach was there because he’s almost killed himself in this room.

He no longer has a door, so it’s like being plunged right back to where it all began. No barrier. No hesitation.

He should be in a psych ward. They had padded walls and nothing to hang himself with. It wasn’t like it could be any more gloomy than his attic room.

He falls onto his bed, body sore from being in the hospital for so long. Hospital beds? Not comfortable. Not to mention being in one position for weeks, because how many positions can you sit in when your bed frame is flush with your hips?

It was like being in a dream, except all the rules had changed. Not just for him, though.

A few days after Connor’s attempt, someone had apparently called child services. Whether it was a doctor at the hospital, the neighbors… _Zoe_ or someone else, nobody knew. All they knew was that everything had to change or Zoe and Connor were going into foster care. Connor didn’t like the idea of Zoe being flung into a different place, all because of him. So he agrees to go to the appointments, talk to the people.

What Connor didn’t get at first was, why were they intervening? Wasn’t it all Connor’s fault? What could his parents even do anymore? 

He and a social worker had a talk and the possibilities…

He had cried, right there in her office. Years of weight on his shoulders seemed to get lighter, hope creeping back in.

He wasn’t evil.

He had a legitimate illness. There were pills, and doctors, and exceptions that could be made in life. He could actually succeed. He had a chance. He could be good. He could be good for Zoe. A good older brother who could actually be there for her. 

So now he has a goal, and he sees it being dangled in front of him. Nothing would magically change, but fuck did it feel like everything already had. 

Right now, though…

He’d hurt Zoe, and he’d hurt Evan. They’d been by his bedside for weeks, and they both look so...so _hurt_. Like he had taken something from them he didn’t know he had. Like they would have been sad if he died. He felt like the worst possible person, even though they’d tried their best to soothe him, swearing up and down they didn’t blame him. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

He rolls onto his side, pushing himself up. He needs to get changed. He’d been in these clothes for far too long. 

He has to bend over to open his clothes drawer, and he must still be a little loopy because he’s giggling at how he doesn’t remember being this tall. He’s going through all the clothes he has when his hand falls on it. It surprised him that he knows the texture immediately, and for whatever reason, his heart soars. 

He pulls out a part of himself he forgot about a long time ago.

He unfolds the skirt, running his hand over it. His dad almost took it, one time, so Connor had hidden it away. It was almost fitting that it would reappear in his life when the whole world had tilted on its axis. Connor hesitates before walking over to his desk, opening the drawer and pulling out a box. It has a little Disney logo on it, and he knows that inside, there’s Zoe and his old nail polish. They have little Minnie Mouse handles, and one of them had sparkles. He remembers Zoe begging their mom to get it for her. When they’d got back from Disneyland, she’d snuck into his room at midnight and they’d painted each other’s nails. Badly. It got all over their fingers, and Connor got some on his bed, but they were giggling and having fun the whole time.

Before he can stop himself he’s walking down the stairs, feet seeking Zoe’s room, the brief memory of his dream flooding him with the urge to see her. 

The door is shut, and Connor almost abandons his plan. The door is closed. That means Zoe doesn’t want him around, or near her, his brain supplies. He’s an asshole, she probably only sat by his bedside out of obligation. She wouldn’t really cry if he died. She wouldn’t be upset because it means that she’d finally have peace. Who misses an abusive asshole like him? Who wants him around. 

He spends a few moments walking back and forth from the stairs to her door. 

He grits his teeth, and it takes all the force in his entire body to raise his hand and knock. 

If she hates him, she just won’t open the door, right? Their parents weren’t home, she’d know it was him. 

He hears the rustling of Zoe’s covers, then footsteps. He knows Zoe is standing on the other side of the door, and it’s not opening. He was right. She doesn’t want to see him. She must hate him because god he would. He did. He does.

He feels his heart drop, and he’s about to walk away when the door opens. He jumps a little, turning to the door.

Oh. Oh god.

Zoe’s crying. Or she has been. It’s probably Connor’s fault, because what else did she have to cry about? She’s probably upset that he’s alive. His heart is in his toes all of a sudden. “Connor?” He hears her say, and it sounds...hopeful? Surprised? He swallows deeply, trying a smile because his throat is clogged and what is he going to say anyway?

He takes a moment to actually look at her. She’s got a blanket around her shoulders, and her adorable pink pajamas with pugs and hearts on. 

She looks so small, and Connor is immediately reminded of when she was his little queen. The hours and hours doing each other's hair, dressing up, doing each other’s nails badly. They’d blast Disney soundtracks and twirl and dance, screaming and laughing. It was a nice time, a better time.

Only for their dad to ruin it all. Only for Connor to ruin it all.

He doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s faced with a crying Zoe and years of sadness and nostalgia. She’s staring at the skirt with wide eyes, and she steps forwards, running her finger along it’s floral, bumpily textured fabric. She sighs, looking far away. “I remember this. We snuck out in the middle of the night and went to that thrift store. Did you ever find the other one? Or did dad get rid of that one.”

Connor shrugs, swallowing. “I think it’s lost forever. But I found this one. Maybe it still fits?” His voice breaks, and he’s clutching it harder now. “I also found the um. The nail polish. And the hair bands are in here too I think…”

He doesn’t know how to ask. He’s forgotten, after all these years. 

Zoe smirks at him, “Well, there’s only one way to find out if it still fits, but no way in hell are you going to look good in it with your hair like that.”

He’s grinning at her and she’s beaming at him, and she gingerly takes his hand and pulls him into her room, closing the door behind them. 

Connor finds himself on Zoe’s bed while she braids his hair. It’s silent and he’s on the verge of tears the whole time. It’s so much like when they were little. But back then, there was giggling. Excited humming and pop songs. Making fun of their parents and talking about the dumb people they had classes with. As Zoe’s working on the left side of his head, she sighs. She’s silent for about another beat before he hears, “Connor, I...I missed this.” He thinks that’s all, and he’s about to agree, but she sniffles and there’s a lump in his throat.

He almost thinks he’s imagining it, but he hears a whispered, “I missed you.” 

Connor sniffles, not saying anything until Zoe’s got the last clip in place and he can turn to her. She’s doing that thing where he can’t tell if she’s about to cry or happy, and he shuffles forward, pulling her into a hug. They sit there for a bit, and the silence burns Connor. 

“Zoe,” he starts, pulling away, eyes on her floral comforter and hands picking at a string, “I’m. I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. And...and I missed you too.” He’s tearing up again, and he can’t look at her. Can’t face her.

It’s silent again, and Connor thinks he hates silence almost as much as he hates himself. Which is… a lot. Then Zoe’s talking again and Connor looks up at her this time.

“You pulled away from me, Connor,” She whispers, taking one of his hands into her own, tracing patterns on it to keep from crying. “I...I thought you hated _me_. I spent so long thinking you were hurting be-because of me because I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t help…,” she’s crying now, and her chest is hurting, “I don’t...I don’t hate you, Connor.”

Connor shakes his head, “You should. You really should hate me, Zoe. God, look what I’ve done to you! I b-broke...I broke your arm, Zoe! I hurt you.” She flinches at his change in tone, and he feels the pit in his stomach get bigger, “You’re scared of me. You should be. I’m a monster.” He grits his teeth, fists balled up. “You have to hate me. Please?” 

She chuckles through tears, “Connor, I love you. I love you so, so much. I could never hate you.” She’s brushing hair out of his face, and the gentle touch has Connor crying harder, face all bunched up and red. She leans forwards, kissing his forehead. “Connor. It isn’t...wasn’t and will never be your fault. You hurt me. You did. But...I know you. It wasn’t...you didn’t want to hurt me. You were just mad and your brain didn’t...didn’t stop you. No one...stopped you. Stopped this,” She takes a shaky breath, “...no one did anything. They didn’t get you help or...or even talk to you They just let it get worse,” she closes her eyes, hiccuping, “Until you...until…,” she leans her head against Connor’s.

”I thought...Connor, I thought I lost you.” She chokes on her words, letting out a loud sob.

Connor pulls her in again, tightly against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Zoe. I’m...I’ll get better. I’m trying to get better. For you,” he whispers. He buries his face in her hair, letting himself cry, too. They’re holding onto each other so tightly, sobbing and trying to breathe all at once. They’re a mess, but for once it’s in a good way. 

Time passes, and their eyes dry, their heartbeats calm. Zoe’s playing with the tips of Connor’s braided hair. Connor is running his fingers through her hair, enjoying the smell of her strawberry shampoo.

Zoe sniffles, whispering, “Don’t...don’t leave again. Don’t leave me.” He squeezes her, nodding gently. 

“I won’t, Zoe. I…,” he pauses, playing with some lint on Zoe’s pajama top, “I love you, Zoe. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she says.

For once, Connor believes it.

The world didn’t seem so scary anymore. They’d get through it together. It might take a while, and he knows there will be times when he can’t be okay, and when things will be absolute shit for everyone but...

They’d heal. 

He’d heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AOIHPOWHRGOH  
> I CRIED SO SO SO MANY TIMES WHILE WRITING THIS CHAPTER HOLY SHIT MY FRIENDS.  
> Pls comment I need solace and people to yell about this with.


	7. Normal Is A Word That Means 'I Give Up'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes, and sometimes, it's for a reason.

Connor had his first actual appointment tomorrow.

Zoe can’t lie and say she’s not excited. It’s like a whole new world is opening for them. Connor could get better, and they could have a relationship again.

It was exciting.

It was _terrifying_.

Hope was terrifying. Hope was terrifying because along with it came waves and waves of what-ifs, doubts, and the stench of reality. She wanted it all to ...poof! Connor is better and there will never be any problems ever again, la-dee-da. It’s unrealistic and she needs to purge it from her mind so that she doesn’t get disappointed. Or hurt Connor.

She blinks herself back into reality.

She’s been laying in bed all day, and she needs to get up and get changed because Connor and her are getting ice cream today and it’s already one. She doubts Connor is awake anyway. So she rolls out of bed and makes her way up to the attic. She doesn’t know whether to knock on the door frame or not because Connor doesn’t have a _door_ anymore. She does just to be safe and finds Connor oh his stomach still all bundled up and asleep. He looks adorable, and she takes a picture really quickly before sitting on the bed and gently wiggling him.

“Hey sleepy butt, get up,” she says softly, laying right on top of him.

He groans, trying to squirm away from her. She smirks and tickles his sides, and he’s thrashing and laughing. Soon he’s got at her sides and they’re a ball of thrashing limbs until they can’t go on anymore and call a truce.

She rolls off the bed, walking to the window and opening it up, immediately flooding the dark as hell room with light. She hears Connor dramatically hissing and rolls her eyes, “Oh vampiric lord Connor, I have you right where I want you!” She pretends to stab him with a stake and he pretends to die, tongue lolling out and eyes rolling up. They laugh themselves silly and Connor finally gets out of the bed, messing with his own hair and heading for the bathroom.

She flops down on his bed and waiting for him to finish up.

It’s a surreal experience for her.  
But as she looks around this room a queasy feeling settles in. It hasn’t changed since Connor’s attempt, and it did look like a place someone would want to die. It was already an attic, it wasn’t like it needed much more to be gloomy as hell.

She decides that her and Connor are redecorating the fuck out of it.

When Connor comes back in, she makes a big show of sighing dramatically, and leaning back, “Connoooor, your room is all depressing and dark. It looks like a My Chemical Romance set!” She waves her hand across the room, and he rolls his eyes, grabbing clothes from his drawer.

“Whoa hey, what are you doing? You’re not wearing that crap!” She happily jumps up, running to her room and running back with a shopping bag. He gives her an incredulous look and she giggles, pouring a pile of clothes onto his bed, “So I kind of went shopping. I hope it fits.”

He huffs, “Zoe, don’t spend your money on me.” He has that face on and Zoe hates that face. That ‘I don’t deserve anything’ face.

“It’s my money and I shall do with it as I please! Now get your ass over here,” she smirks, holding up a pretty black skirt.

Connor gives her this smile. It’s a dopey smile and he has water on his chin from brushing his teeth and his hair is awful and….and…

She missed her brother so, so much.

\-----

Three floral prints, four different cuts of shirts and a flower crown later, Connor looked like a drag queen who had been out of the game for too long.

Zoe brushes and does his hair, and then he lets her do makeup on him because she looks so _happy_ and he’d die if he ruined it. He feels like the older brother letting his little sister yank his hair and put paint all over his face, and it’s a wonderful feeling to bring back. His head hurts, and he feels like he has something in his eyes, but...

He won’t even deny that he looks good right now.

Like damn good.

“I’d do me,” he says, smirking.

“Yeah right, gay boy,” she mutters, redoing a braid that had been too short before. He rolls his eyes and lets her do whatever.

When he’s finally done he does a little twirl and Zoe takes pictures. He tries to adopt a falsetto tone and it sounds so horrendous he gives up.

“It’s not like your voice is that deep anyway, Connor,” Zoe supplies, shoving the makeup back into a bag as soon as she’s done with her own makeup.

“Fair enough,” he says in the deepest voice he can manage. They both crack up.

He borrows one of Zoe’s purses to keep his phone in since he doesn’t have any pockets. They’re deep in a conversation about how dumb that is, because what was _so hard_ about fitting a pocket somewhere? They’re so into it in fact that they don’t hear their Dad as he walks up to them.

He looks furious.

“What in the world are you wearing, Connor?” Connor immediately adopts the robotic look Zoe has come to hate, and Zoe loses it.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Zoe growls, walking right into her father’s space, “Ruin this day for me. You ALWAYS ruin any fun we have and make Connor get all angry and I’m sick of it! He looks gorgeous! He’s wearing a skirt, that I bought myself for him, and a beautiful shirt and _fucking eyeliner_ and he’s _gorgeous _so _FUCK OFF!_ ”__

__She then walks to Connor and grabs his hand, pulling him with her right past their Dad, who stood there shell shocked in Connor’s room, facing the place where his own son had tried to kill himself, and she hopes it haunts him._ _

__Then Zoe pauses, flipping her hair and turning around before she can think better of it, and screaming, “AND I’M A LESBIAN!”_ _

__They’re out of the house and in Connor’s car in a minute flat, and they’re laughing hysterically. Connor pulls out of the driveway and they laugh until they’re on the highway, Connor tapping his eyes with a napkin like a fucking grandma to keep his eyeliner on._ _

__“Oh my god Zoe, we are so grounded when we get home,” he wheezes through his broken lungs, and she nods, groaning with her face in her hands._ _

__“He fucking deserved it though, the asshat,” she mumbles._ _

__They start laughing again._ _

__They don’t stop until they’re at A La Mode._ _

__They still have the same favorites as when they were kids, and everyone is drooling over them the whole time._ _

__It’s the best day _ever.__ _

__\-----_ _

__Evan is...stressed._ _

__This is absolutely in no way out of the normal, yet once again it was the center of his stress that was different._ _

__Tomorrow was Connor’s first day back at school. He’s been sitting in bed all night, wondering if anything was...different now._ _

__Would Connor want to talk to him? Was it different, now that Connor was awake? Would everything go back to normal?_ _

__If normal was Connor swinging from a noose, normal could go fuck itself._ _

__Evan wrangles his hands together, staring out his window. It wasn’t inky black outside. There were too many streetlamps for that, and for some reason, the monotonous sight of the concrete was worse than pitch blackness could ever be. Probably because it was so normal. Normal normal normal._ _

__If normal was Evan stressing, not reaching out? Being alone?_ _

__‘ **Dear Connor Murphy,**_ _

__**Normal can go fuck itself.** _ _

__**I know that doesn’t make any sense without context, so here it is.** _ _

__**Normally I’d be scared as hell to talk to you tomorrow, because what if I fuck up? What if you don’t want to talk to me anymore?** _ _

__**Fuck that. Hi, Connor! It’s nice to see you and I’m glad you’re here! I was so fucking worried and don’t you dare do that to me again ever ever ever. I will actually kill you myself if you worry me like that ever again.** _ _

__**But K isn’t the K word I want to do to you. I realized while watching you drool all over your pillow. Did you know you’re adorable asleep? Fuck yes you are, and that’s not a normal thing to say at all.** _ _

__**Want to go get lunch together?** _ _

__**Sincerely,  
Me**`_ _

__Evan shoves it in his backpack as soon as he’s done and flops onto his bed. He’s still terrified to talk to Connor. He doesn’t want Connor to read that note ever._ _

__He’s going to get up early and it’s going straight into Connor’s locker. He’s not going to think twice of it. In fact…_ _

__He sits up and pulls it out of his backpack, unfolding it and writing his number in big numbers next to the ending, then shoves it right back in and tucks himself in._ _

__Tomorrow he’s going to punch normal right in the face._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg y'all.  
> O M G.  
> So noooormally I'd tell you to comment...  
> I'll let you decide this time ; )


	8. It'll All Come to Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get really bad, sometimes. But then life just...goes on. Like nothing ever changed.  
> Except everything changed.

It’s nine in the morning, and Zoe and Connor are both sitting at the table. Zoe is drinking a huge mug of coffee, and Connor is drinking chocolate milk. It’s a late start day, and they’re both in pajamas, wearing equally tired faces. After a full night on the town, they were both beat, and had it not been a late start day anyway they’d both be late. 

(“Bless the ineffectual American school system,” Connor had groaned upon waking up.)

Zoe has her mug halfway to her face when the toaster dings and they both jump, Zoe spilling a bit of coffee on her leg. It takes a moment for her to react, staring at her leg in shock.“Shit, shit, shit,” she hisses, running to the sink to grab a paper towel.

Connor, who was still blinking awake, mumbles an, “Are you okay?” His brows furrow in a hilarious and adorable way and Zoe can’t help but snort when she looks over at him.

“M’fine, it hardly got through my pants,” she mutters back, sponging it off. “D’you want me to put toast in for you?”

Connor grunts his confirmation, eyes slipping shut again.

“Sucks that you can’t have coffee,” Zoe says, Connor grunts again, making a soggy pouty face, and Zoe laughs.

The absolute monotony of it, the casual conversation, the sleepy morning vibe. Zoe could almost cry. It’s something she’d never have, and here it was. 

Buttered toast at nine. 

Connor slowly awakens, munching on his toast and grunting in agreement or confusion every now and then as Zoe talks. There’s a moment where he snorts, his face screwing up in laughter, and it makes Zoe warm inside.

Then she goes quiet for a moment, focusing on her sparkly purple nails. It’s a moment before she clears her throat and looks up at Connor, “So, I got a Jazz Solo.”

She’s expecting another grunt, or a thumbs up or something like that. She’s not expecting Connor’s jaw to drop, or for him to grin, or for him to mutter, “Fuckin’ finally.” She’s almost startled when he holds up a hand for her to high-five. He’s doing that crinkly eye thing, where his forehead gets all red and his eyes are all squinty and he looks like he’s going to cry even though it’s supposed to be a smile. She laughs and slaps her hand to his.

They’re soon on their way to school, windows down and music playing.

\-----

Evan is having possibly the worst day since the U-Haul his dad rented pulled up to their house. 

Okay, maybe not that bad, but it wasn’t a good day. At all.

After winning his battle, if he could even call it that, he still had his stupid note in his backpack. It wasn’t even because he was wussing out. He’d somehow slept through his alarm, even though it usually sent him sprawling across his room in a blind state of panic. This time, he’d woken up twenty minutes before school. 

In addition to that, he was out of antidepressants. 

It wasn’t as big of a deal as being out of his anxiety meds, but it did mean he’d be sluggish all day, and it did mean he had to reorder them. Shit. It wasn’t like he had to call in, but…

Even texting a number could be nerve wracking sometimes. Like, what if it was a person pretending to be a bot? 

Either way, he was tired and it took him a while to get ready. So he was late. He wouldn’t have even been as late if he hadn’t frozen at the door, wondering if this was the right class even though he knew it was. Wondering if it was worth everyone turning to look at him.

It wasn’t. At least he was in class, though. 

After class, he’d been set on putting the note in Connor’s locker. He didn’t end up doing it. Mostly because a group of girls had taken up lodging in the hallway for all of lunch time. So he fled to avoid conversation, and by the time he’d gotten up the courage to go back the bell had rung. 

Except, he has the next class with Connor. 

He doesn’t know why it’s as scary as it is. Like, Connor didn’t even know he had a note to give him. Connor probably didn’t even know he’d sat by him for ages while he was in the hospital, did he? Would he think Evan had abandoned him? Or didn’t like him anymore? Because that was so far from true.

He really really likes Connor. So he can only hope he didn’t screw it up by being late that morning. Or by way of something else he didn’t even think about.

He swallows and makes his way to the classroom.

\------

Connor watches Evan awkwardly walk into the room, sit down and fidget in his chair. Connor had thought Evan wasn’t even here, since he didn’t leave a note, or say anything to Connor, or anything. Maybe he was waiting for Connor to initiate it? He did mention in one of his notes that he had pretty bad anxiety.

Or maybe he didn’t feel like continuing on with their little whatever it was. Maybe he realized that while he was sat next to Connor’s fucked up self in the hospital. Maybe he decided he liked Zoe more. Everyone did. Even Connor.

He drums his fingers obnoxiously on his desk, shamelessly staring right at Evan. Evan is staring so forcefully at his desk that it’s a bit worrying. Is the desk, like, alive or some shit? Did he spot a deadly spider chilling on his desk that he felt the need to sit and stare at? 

What the fuck was he so intent on staring on, and why wasn’t it _Connor?_

Connor grunts and sticks his earbuds in, leaning his back against the classroom wall and shutting his eyes. Fuck it. If Evan wasn’t going to pay attention to him, he’d not pay attention right back. That’d work, right?

He ends up falling asleep, his hair falling over his face and his hands stiffly crossed over his chest.

He’s soon being awoken by a gentle hand on his elbow. He lets his eyes slide open into a scowl, ready to yell at whatever well-meaning kid had disturbed him.

He’s met with a very anxious looking Evan. His eyes widen further and he’s pushing himself up, tugging the earbuds out of his ears.

“Evan,” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say. 

Evan is sweating something, and then he’s rambling about how he’s sorry and he was late and having the worse morning and, oh, you don’t care about that I’m sorry and I just didn’t have time and and and…

Connor can’t help but let his mouth form the goofiest smile ever. 

Evan stops as if in shock, staring at Connor with a blank face, before he, too, is smiling dorkily. They sit there for a minute before the bell is ringing again. They both jump, looking up at the ceiling like there would be an actual tolling bell there when they looked. 

They end up smiling at each other again, before Evan is shoving a paper into Connor’s hands and walking away. He blinks after him, and before Evan walks out he falters and looks back at Connor, mumbling something that sounds like ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

Connor can’t help but agree.

He’s glad he’s here, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short! I kinda spiraled rip, but I'm back at it I think! :> Feel free to comment, yell @ me to write on tumblr, and all that good stuff! Peace ;^ )


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for leaving this for so long lmao. I won't go into it, but life got hard. Anyway, coming back to this fic I realized a few things.   
> A) Reading your own older writing is hard.   
> B) It was coming to a close.
> 
> So, I present to you the final chapter before the end, and I hope you don't hate it?? I feel like now the pacing is a bit faster than I originally planned, but...I like it, so I hope you do too.

Connor is almost giddy. He’d managed to have a somewhat pleasant interaction with Evan, but after reading his note he just. Holy god.

First of all, Evan had used his horrible, awful, no-good pickup line back on him. Second of all, he now has Evan’s phone number. Which was good and bad, because it did open up the ability to call him and leave awkward and pining voicemails and that was so not happening if he had anything to do with it. Especially because Connor was going sober, which was both painful and not as bad as he thought it would be.

Turns out pot isn’t that addictive, and it wasn’t like he’d gotten his hands on much else anyway. Being high was something he had a weird relationship with, anyway. Pot was supposed to make you calm, but either his dealer cut it with something else, or Connor wasn’t affected the same way, because it made him irritated and weird.

As it turns out, the new meds he was on worked way better. 

This was only his second day taking them, though, and he felt a little...dry. A little robotic. Which was better than his usual swings so he’d take it. 

He and Zoe had been having breakfast every morning, hanging out way more, and he and Evan had some awkward text conversations that Connor treasured far more than he should. Some happened at night, while Connor stared out of the windows at the stars and contemplated things. Some midday. 

Connor also stopped missing so much school, and learned that he was actually far smarter than he thought. It was a weird feeling, actually caring. 

He’s still spending most of his time staring at Evan in most their shared classes though. He’s too adorable not to. So there they are in class, Connor making faces at Evan whenever he looked over, usually causing Evan to either try not to laugh or roll his eyes. The teacher asks a question, and he watches Evan take a deep breath and raise his hand. Connor grins, and when the teacher picks Evan, a bit surprised. Evan takes a minute to breathe and recites the answer with minimal stuttering. He looks a bit frazzled after, but Connor gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

The teacher asks a question he knows the answer to, and he figures that, if Evan could do it, fuck it. He needed to try. He raises his hand and the teacher looks at him for a moment before picking him. He answers, adding his own thoughts too, and the teacher blinks before smiling. She adds some more info and corrects one part of it, but other than that he’s done good and he’s pleased with himself.

Things go on pretty well until the end of class, and everyone stands. 

Connor decides something as Evan begins to pack his bag up semi-frantically, most likely due to his fear of being the last one in the classroom and having to talk to the teacher. It had been in one of his notes. 

He startles a bit when Connor walks up to him, and Connor holds his hands up like he’s trying to take a wild animal, “Chill, Ev. Not trying to eat you.”

Evan’s face turns amused and he snorts, sticking the last book in his bag, “Dang, I was looking forward to being spit roasted.”

It’s Connors turn to snort. “I was thinking, uh. It’s lunch. Food time.” He wiggles his hands for a second and then says, “We could do lunch now?”

 

Evan stares at him a moment before laughing, and then Connor starts laughing, and soon they’re on their way to Connor’s car. Their conversation is flowing, no awkward pauses or anything, and it’s almost weird that it’s not weird. 

When they get in the car, though, Connor pauses for a moment. 

“Ev, uh. What you said in your note…?”

Evan turns to him and he turns to Evan. There’s a moment, a pause, where there’s a tension between them. 

Evan is the first to look away, his eyes flitting down. He clears his throat. “I meant it.”

It’s all Connor needs to hear. 

He cups the back of Evan’s head and kisses him.

Evan’s lips are chapped, his nose is pressing on Connor’s uncomfortably because it was an awkward angle, and he was hoping his breath didn’t smell.

It was perfect. Connor decided he’d do it more often.

They’re soon on their way to lunch, both blushing and giddy.

\-----

The day ends faster than it usually does, and for once Connor sad about it. He says goodbye to Evan, stealing one more kiss because that was a thing he could do now and he’s never going to get over that. 

Soon him and Zoe are on their way home, and Zoe is quiet when they get into the car, smirking.

Connor eyes her as he stops at a light. “Zoe, what’s with the face.”

It earns him a giggle, it makes him bristle for a second, and then he realizes what this must be about.

“Oh, you know. Just went looking for you at lunch is all.”

Connor immediately blushes, and Zoe starts cracking up. 

She sobers after a minute and puts a hand on his shoulder, “I’m happy for you. It’s about time.”

He doesn’t have the heart to mention that there was no time between breaking her arm and swinging on a noose that left time for him to go for a relationship. But in a way she was right. It was about damn time that he was at least somewhat happy.

When they park in the driveway, Connor stares her right in the eye, “Hey, if I can do it…”

Zoe freezes, biting her lip, “You know about…”

He nods, then smirks, “You better talk to her. Locker notes are a proven method.” He gets a shoulder shove and they’re on their way back in, Connor snickering.

What he doesn’t suspect as he pushes open the door is his mother crying at the dinner table. Him and Zoe look at each other. 

He hadn’t done anything that bad lately, had he? Sure he’d gotten mad at his dad once lately and smashed a plate, but he’d apologized and cleaned it after. He thought he was doing pretty well, so why…?

They walk into the kitchen and approach their mother.

“Mom?” Zoe’s voice was quiet.

She looked between them both and sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Sit down, kids.”

They complied, both as confused as the other.

She took a deep breath before she addressed them, “Kids, I’m very proud of you. Connor, you’re doing so much better every day, and Zoe you’ve been such a good support for your brother.” She sighs, “Your Father and I haven’t been...there when you needed us. Your father was stuck in his ways and I was too...too...passive in the situation.” She swallows deeply, “Kids, your Father and I are getting a divorce. He was trying to...he wanted to take you off of your medication, Connor.”

Connor sucked in a deep breath, feeling fire in his chest. 

“I decided that...I need to take a stand in things, and that I wouldn’t risk your happiness for our marriage.” She stares at the table, “I’m sorry that I’ve let you down.”

He tries to feel angry or sad or...something, but he feels a sort of relief, as well as a little anxiety. Everything was going to change, that was pretty obvious. Yet, it was for the better, right? He’s aware that Zoe’s been quite for the entire time and he turns to her.

Zoe is quiet for a while longer before she speaks up, “I’m proud of you mom. You’re doing the right thing.” She has a look on her face, though, and he gets it. It’s hard to trust this, or be excited or happy about anything when it can so easily change again. Zoe gets up and goes to her room, and Connor is left looking after her. 

His mom sighs, standing to go to do whatever it was she did. 

Connor cleared his throat, “Thank you, Mom.” She looked at him with glossy eyes and smiled. He counted it as a victory.

Instinctively, Connor headed for his attic room. He paused a second when the door to his downstairs room, his old room, caught his eye. He hesitated before creaking the door open. Everything was the same as he remembered it, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Damn he had a thing for dinosaurs, and also Diego. He forgot about Diego. With a sigh he walks in, sitting down on his bed and sneezing a bit from the dust. He pretended that was why his eyes were watering.

A voice in the back of his head reminds him that he’s finally done it. Finally split up the family. 

A voice that sounds a lot like Evan reminds him that, no. His dad did it. His dad split up the family.

“One hell of a family anyway,” he mutters, leaving the room door open as he walks out. He looks over at Zoe’s room and smiles. He has his sister, even if their relationship isn’t perfect and even if it never is. 

What more does he need?  
\-----

“Youuu can do this, Zoe,” she whispers to herself, clutching a piece of yellow stationery to her chest and walking through the halls of the school. As much as Connor had been joking about the locker notes, she had yet to come up with another idea, and it was as good as it was going to get. 

She’d even gotten out the sparkly gel pens for it.

She almost squeaks when it slides into Alana’s locker and she can’t get it out anymore. It’s over. It happened. Oh god. She decides that going to class would be a better alternative than crying or begging a janitor to help her.

It seems to work pretty well, as she’s soon too worried about how the hell she’s going to write an essay on a book she had forgotten to read in one week to worry about much else. She’s waist deep in sparknotes soon enough, outside world forgotten. 

She hears her name and looks up to see where it came from. 

And there’s Alana Beck, holding the note in her hand and smiling awkwardly.

They’re discussing mid terms in no time, and getting lunch to continue their conversation.

It turns into late night study sessions, being a dream team on group projects, and then…

Then it turns into Prom, and Alana looks gorgeous in a pantsuit. 

Zoe is wondering where time went, and being so happy it had at the same time.

Connor had been excited, and when he asked how she did it she remarks, “Sparkly gel pens.” He’s baffled for a minute, and by the time he connects the dots she’s in her room with the door closed, too happy to hear him cracking up outside.

Life had changed. It wasn't perfect, but it was...better.

**Author's Note:**

> Woop, hope you enjoy! If you comment I will love you forever...and probably write it faster. Come hang out with me on my tumble: http://bit.ly/2oXAFYi  
> 


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